


The Beaver State

by AgentOregon



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Agent Oregon (oc), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 19:38:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2240967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentOregon/pseuds/AgentOregon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Introduction of my OC, Agent Oregon, when she first meets all the freelancers. Takes place pre-CT and Wash.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Beaver State

"Agents, it is time again for your number to increase by one. Please welcome our newest soldier, who will from now on be known as Oregon." The Director gestured to his left, at a small young woman who was grinning brightly at the crowd of freelancers in front of her.

York nudged Carolina in the side. "Is it just me, or are they getting shorter every time?" he muttered.

"Shut up, York," Carolina muttered. She paused, tilted her head slightly. "Although…"

"I trust you will all make her feel welcome," the Director said, eyeing York and Carolina sternly. "You are dismissed."

The Counselor turned to Oregon as the rest of the agents slowly made their way out of the conference room. She nodded enthusiastically as she listened, and when the Counselor finished, Oregon dipped her head respectfully as he turned away.

Oregon filed out of the room in the back of the group. As soon as they exited, South immediately sidled up to her.

"Hey, newbie," South crooned. "I like your hair. We're, like, twins."

Oregon smiled. "Yeah, you're right," she replied. "Except my hair is very black and yours is…" She glanced up at South's platinum blonde style. "Not at all."

South raised an eyebrow. "Sure, but we've both dyed it pink somehow."

Oregon shrugged. "Fair enough." She smiled again. "Didn't catch your name, sweetie."

South barked a laugh. "Sweetie?" she repeated incredulously. "North, can you believe this kid?"

A blond freelancer a few yards ahead of them turned around. "What'd she do?" he asked, rolling his eyes with a half-smile at Oregon.

"She called me sweetie," South informed him, still in disbelief.

North tilted his head and smiled at his sister. "Aww."

"Oh, fuck you," South said, waving a hand dismissively at him.

Oregon watched the exchange like a tennis match. "You're North?" she piped up, pointing at the young blond man.

He nodded, smiling slightly. "And that's my darling twin sister, South," he said, nodding his head toward her.

Oregon raised an eyebrow. "North and South what?"

North chuckled. "Dakota. We couldn't have been Carolina, that one was already taken." He looked down the hallway, pointing toward the turquoise-armored freelancer.

"No North or South for her, huh?" Oregon observed. She watched Carolina's stride -- carrying herself with confidence and acting like the leader, even though she wasn't near the front of the crowd and held her head stiffly.

"No need to clarify your name when you're always at the top of the board," South muttered, shaking her head with something like disgust.

Oregon noticed North about to interject, probably to defend Carolina, and beat him to it -- "She's really hot, though, let's be real."

South grinned wickedly. "Can't argue with that."

North half-smiled. "Uh, so…shall we?" He gestured down the hall where the rest of the group had disappeared.

Oregon nodded bouncily. "After you."

 

 

 

As they entered the locker room, North began to quickly warn Oregon about a couple of the freelancers.

"Don't ever take Wyoming seriously, he's always making jokes. Maine hardly ever talks, so don't take it personally if he --"

"She's a big girl, North, she can handle it," South interrupted, pushing her way past them through the door.

"'Big' being a figurative term, I'm sure," Oregon added. She could have sworn she heard South snicker as the door swung shut behind her.

North sighed. "Go on, then. Baptism by fire."

Oregon put her hand up to the door, when suddenly it was pulled open from the other side.

"Hello there, Oregon!" a man with long dark hair greeted her. He was outfitted in dark blue armor. "I am Agent Florida."

"Pleasure," Oregon said, nodding. She made her way further into the room.

"She finally decided to join us!" called a brown-haired agent from yards away.

"That's York," North hissed to her from behind.

"Greetings, my dear!" cried a deep English baritone. Oregon glanced toward the source of the voice to see a muscular man with a long mustache. He was standing with one foot propped up on the center benches, grinning brightly at her and completely naked.

Oregon glanced up and down his body, unfazed. "Greetings, indeed," she said, raising an eyebrow.

"Please, Wyoming, it's only her first day with us," Florida chastised him. He leaned toward Oregon, blocking his mouth with his hand as if he was sharing some great secret. "He's such a tease, honestly. 'You can look, but you can't touch,' he always tells me…"

Oregon giggled, exaggerating a wink in Wyoming's direction.

"Ridiculous, all of you," Florida said, throwing up his hands in playful exasperation. "This way, sweetheart, I'll show you your spot."

He led Oregon down one of the rows of lockers. Hers was near the end, a ways down from North, South, and Florida himself.

"Here you are, darling, right between Washington and California," he announced, gesturing grandly. "Oh, they're not here yet!" he added, answering Oregon's question before she took a breath to ask it. "We have all fifty lockers, but some are not yet in use, and others…well, others have previously been occupied and no longer are. We keep them labeled and empty, for sentimental reasons." He clasped his hands behind his back, staring off at the ceiling.

Oregon watched him, but was only able to maintain the silence for so long. "Florida?" He glanced at her. "I have a question."

"Ask it, then. Don't be shy."

"Is your policy on…substances as strict as they implied it was in training?"

Florida laughed joyfully, his nostalgic trance broken. "Not if you have enough to share," he replied with a wink.

Oregon chuckled. "Don't know about that."

"If I may ask, what sort of substances are we speaking of?" he asked, lowering his voice.

"Nothing horrible," Oregon assured him, grinning. "Just…the occasional joint."

"Tell you what -- you keep it out of range of Carolina's sniffer, and you're golden," Florida assured her, clapping her on the shoulder.

"Excellent," she replied, glancing back at the nameplates on the lockers. "So, if there's no Washington or California yet, does that mean I'm the first west coaster?"

"So to speak, it seems you are," Florida said thoughtfully. "The original west coast agent. What do the kids say…ah…" He peered down the row. "North! What is it you youngsters say, instead of 'original'?"

North jerked his head up, looking confused. "Um…huh?"

"He's thinking of 'OG,' dipshit," South interrupted, flicking the back of North's head. "'Original gangster.'"

"Ah yes, that's the one!" Florida said happily.

"OG. I like it," Oregon commented casually.

"Don't people use that to refer to weed sometimes?" a new voice suddenly interrupted from behind her. Oregon quickly glanced over her shoulder to see the agent North had named as York.

"I wouldn't know," Florida chuckled.

"That's even more fitting," Oregon said, grinning up at York.

He raised his eyebrows. "Oh _really_." His smile looked devious. "In that case, hit me up after training."

"Speaking of that," said Carolina, suddenly appearing at the end of the row. The agents fell silent immediately. "York, North, South, and Oregon, report to the training room floor in five minutes."

York grabbed his helmet from the bench beside him. He brushed past Oregon and smiled down at her. "See you there, OG," he said, patting the top of her head. He turned and headed for the door.

Florida chuckled, shaking his head. "Shall we, my dear? I have some time. I'll come observe you for moral support." He smiled kindly at her. "I doubt you need good luck, but wishing it to you can't hurt."

Oregon picked up her helmet, the pale gold tint reflecting the dim fluorescent lights above them. "I appreciate it," she said, itching to get to training. "Let's go."


End file.
